The door of the rear room opened, and Jean came in, carrying in her arms an assortment of strange creatures which she set in a row on the floor in front of her father. "There?" she asked, "what do you think of them?" They were silhouettes of birds and beasts, made of wood, painted and varnished. But such ducks had never quacked, such geese had never waddled, such dogs had never barked--fantastic as a nightmare--too long--too broad--exaggerated out of all reality, they might have marched with Alice from Wonderland or from behind the Looking Glass. "I made them, Daddy." "You--." "Yes, do you like them?" "Aren't they a bit--uncanny?" "We've sold dozens; the children adore them." "And you haven't told me you were doing it. Why?" "I wanted you to see them first--a surprise. We call them the Lovely Dreams, and we made the ducks green and the pussy cats pink because that's the way the children see them in their own little minds--" She was radiant. "And I am making money, Daddy. Emily had such a hard time getting toys after the war began, so we thought we'd try. And we worked out these. I get a percentage on all sales." He frowned. "I am not sure that I like that." "Why not?" "Don't I give you money enough?" "Of course. But this is different." "How different?" "It is my own. Don't you see?" Being a man he did not see, but Miss Emily did. "Any work that is worth doing at all is worth being paid for. You know that, Doctor." He did know it, but he didn't like to have a woman tell him. "She doesn't need the money." "I do. I am giving it to the Red Cross. Please don't be stuffy about it, Daddy." "Am I stuffy?" "Yes." He tried to redeem himself by a rather tardy enthusiasm and succeeded. Jean brought out more Lovely Dreams, until a grotesque procession stretched across the room. "Tomorrow," she announced, triumphantly, "we'll put them in the window, and you'll see the children coming." As she carried them away, Doctor McKenzie said to Emily, "It seems strange that she should want to do it." "Not at all. She needs an outlet for her energies." "Oh, does she?" "If she weren't your daughter, you'd know it." On the way home he said, "I am very proud of you, my dear." Jean had tucked her arm through his. It was not raining, but the sky was full of ragged clouds, and the wind blew strongly. They felt the push of it as they walked against it. "Oh," she said, with her cheek against his rough coat, "are you proud of me because of my green ducks and my pink pussy cats?" But she knew it was more than that, although he laughed, and she laughed with him, as if his pride in her was a thing which they took lightly. But they both walked a little faster to keep pace with their quickened blood. Thus their walk became a sort of triumphant progress. They passed the British Embassy with the Lion and the Unicorn watching over it in the night; they rounded the Circle and came suddenly upon a line of motor cars.